


One of Those Days

by Higuchimon



Series: When Blood Crosses [21]
Category: Digimon Adventure Zero Two | Digimon Adventure 02
Genre: Call It Heads or Tails, Christmas Advent 2017, Diversity Writing Challenge, Easter Advent 2017: Explore Your World, Gen, Novella Masterclass
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2020-12-13
Updated: 2020-12-29
Packaged: 2021-03-10 19:49:00
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 3
Words: 5,294
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/28042692
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Higuchimon/pseuds/Higuchimon
Series: When Blood Crosses [21]
Series URL: https://archiveofourown.org/series/795219
Comments: 2
Kudos: 10





	1. Chapter 1

**Title:** One of Those Days  
 **Family:** Hiroaki, Piemon, Yamato  
 **Chapters:** 1-12| **Chapter Words:** 1,628| **Total Words:** 1,628  
 **Genre:** Family|| **Rated:** G  
 **Challenges:** Diversity Writing, Digimon Adventure 02, breeds, I11, 9-14 chapters; Easter Advent 2017, #29, changing faces; Novella Masterclass, #4, AU Space; Christmas Advent 2017, day #22, take 2 characters who didn’t interact & write a scenario where they do (Piemon & Ishida Hiroaki); Call It Heads or Tails, level 3, conflict  
 **Notes:** This is a massive rewrite of an old story of mine.  
 **Summary:** Piemon has plans that involve his son. Ishida Hiroaki insists there’s more to a father than siring a child. One person holds the answer – Ishida Yamato.

* * *

Digimon didn’t show up in the human world very often. When it did happen, they were usually with a partner of some kind, or had found a way there in order to request desperately needed help from the Chosen. Those latter cases tended to end up being very important battles. Most Digimon with that sort of problem preferred to contact the Chosen while in their own world. 

At this moment, Ishida Hiroaki wished with every bit of his heart that _these_ Digimon had stayed in the Digital World. He ducked down behind a pile of smoldering metal that had once been a car, keeping his camera close, and tried his best to catch his breath. He’d gotten some very good shots already but none of that would mean a thing if he didn’t get out of this in one piece. 

He could hear voices, untold numbers of chittering and deep growls, high-pitched snarls and snaps. He tried to remember if he’d ever seen these types before. They didn’t seem familiar. He wasn’t sure how many there were. With each passing year new information came out about Digimon and while he had better access than most, it was still a lot to learn. 

These particular ones stood about knee-high, covered with thick gray fur and armed with sharp claws on hands and feet. Wings spread from their back, and he had to keep a watch on the air as well, since they flew here and there in tight packs, sometimes darting down to tear at people or at anything else that caught their fancy. 

Or sometimes just to circle around and stare. To stare at him. 

He didn’t want to think they were targeting him in particular but a few of them _did_ dart down and slash at him. Blood ran down from one such wound on his left arm and he’d done his best to bind it up. 

_Where are you?_ He knew that the Chosen would be here sooner or later. This was the kind of situation that they dealt with. He hadn’t been able to call them – he’d _tried_ but one of those creatures made a deliberate point to strike the phone out of his hand before he’d made the connection. That had been his first clue that these Digimon weren’t just causing trouble for the giggles of it. 

At least no one else from his team was out here to get into trouble. Though knowing them, they were probably getting into their own trouble somewhere else. 

Yamato had been busy with the band today. They’d been having some kind of trouble, but exactly what Hiroaki wasn’t sure. He tried to keep up with Yamato’s life but a lot of it he didn’t understand. But he tried anyway. That was his son, after all. 

“You say that he’s here?” 

Hiroaki froze where he was. While he didn’t _know_ the voice, it filled him with absolute terror to hear it. He swallowed as silently s he could, eyes darting this way and that, searching for some way to get out of there. Preferably without being seen. He didn’t _want_ to be seen why whoever it was that spoke. 

The voice itself seemed to come from somewhere higher above him. He cast his eyes up and for now only saw gray clouds. It had been overcast all day, with a little drizzling rain. Hiroaki wasn’t sure if that helped him hide or not. Nothing he’d ever heard told him that Digimon could or couldn’t track or move through rain better or worse than humans. 

How long was it until sunset? He would have to get undercover before then, wouldn't he? People needed to know what was going on and if he didn’t tell them, then who in this city would? While his status as a “Digimon reporter” wasn’t anything official, since he had two sons who were Chosen, most people looked to him when this sort of thing happened. 

He tried to tell himself that he couldn’t be sure that these Digimon were even really looking for him. The way that they struck at him made him wonder but he didn’t _know_. And that _voice_ certainly didn’t make matters any better. 

No matter what else happened, he had to get to safety. He heard no footsteps but the buzzing of wings filled the air, getting closer and closer with each second. He pressed his lips together and made what he suspected was a very bad decision – he leaped forward and tried to get to a new place for concealment. 

No sooner had he broken cover than the sound of buzzing wings increased, along with excited noises, and those few Digimon that he saw were all very definitely pointing right at him. 

“Ah, yes.” That same voice again. He knew that he didn’t recognize the speaker, but the voice sounded familiar regardless. As if he’d heard someone like it before. “I see you, human. You’d be best served by surrendering. I don’t promise to make your death painless and quick, of course. In fact, it will be very painful and prolonged.” 

Hiroaki jerked around to stare at the speaker. Whoever it was stood not that far away, if stood were the right word to use for a creature that floated in the air. His first thought was that this was a clown – it certainly resembled one. But most clowns didn’t sport smiles that spoke of pain and destruction, nor did they carry swords on their back, or command legions of creatures that resembled demons of mythology. 

His gaze flicked to the swords and he paled. While the designs were different, he could still recognize something about them – he swallowed softly. 

Oh. He knew who this was now. He’d heard about him, but hadn’t ever thought to meet him in person. Nor had he ever wanted to. 

He’d thought for the last ten years that this person was _dead_. That was what Yamato told him. Not that Yamato spoke often of him but that’s what he’d _said_. 

“You’re Piemon,” Hiroaki declared, taking a few steps back. Dead or alive, f what he’d heard was true, then he wanted _nothing_ to do with this creature in the slightest. Even the Chosen, with two Digimon of equal strength to him, had barely survived their encounters with him. Hiroaki wasn’t so sure about his own chances. 

The Digimon’s smile widened. Said smile carried madness and pain, preferably to be delivered to other people. “I see you’ve heard of me.” 

“How could I not?” Again he moved back and Piemon and his troops casually moved forward. Hiroaki suspected that he was being surrounded. He’d never wanted a Digimon partner of his own more than he did right now. But those who forged bonds with Digimon tended to be younger than he was, more capable of growing and learning. Yamato had said that it wasn’t impossible, but it hadn’t happened yet, and he really could have used the help. 

Though to be fair, most Digimon partners were Child level, and he wouldn’t put a Child up against Piemon no matter what. Even the Chosen had had to work to get beyond that and Piemon could slice apart an Adult like the Adult were made of tissue paper. Maybe it would be better to face this alone. Less damage that way. 

Piemon’s scarlet eyes tracked him easily no matter what moves he made. “True, true. I’m certain my dear son Anbumon has kept you informed of my magnificence,” Piemon chuckled as he spoke. Hiroaki shook his head at once. 

“His name is Ishida Yamato My son!” 

Piemon slowly drew one of his swords. The sound of it emerging from the sheath sent chills all through Hiroaki. He cast quick glances to all sides, only to see wherever he looked that Digimon stared back at him. Not just the smaller ones, but larger and more terrifying ones as well. 

Today didn’t look as if it would be his day. 

“His name is Anbumon. He is _my_ son,” Piemon declared as if correcting him. “My blood and my data created him far more than anything _you_ ever did.” 

Hiroaki wasn’t going to listen to that. It took far more than Piemon had ever done to raise a child. Piemon was a monster in every sense of the word. He’d heard more than enough about what he’d done to Yamato in an effort to drag out his dark side. 

Piemon raised his blade. Hiroaki wondered how many times he’d used that to kill unwary Digimon. “I really don’t like you, Ishida Hiroaki. If it weren’t for you, then I would have a _proper_ son, a Viral Ultimate that I could be _proud_ of, and not a brat that I have to _argue_ with to get anything done!” His eyes flashed brilliant crimson as he moved forward, all of his attention on Hiroaki. “But when I get rid of you, that’s one step closer to Anbumon being a permanent situation than a passing visitation.” 

Hiroaki shuddered at the thought. He’d never encountered Yamato when his son was under the control of his viral blood. He’d heard more than enough stories to know that he didn’t _want_ to either. If Piemon wanted that, then he most certainly didn’t. 

Oh, yeah, today _really_ wasn’t turning out to be his day. And he doubted that it would get any better any time soon. 

“Now, I’ll give you these choices. Either you can surrender to me now and I will kill you – when I feel like it – or you can try to run away and I can enjoy myself hunting you down.” Piemon smiled one of his terrifying smiles. “Now, you’d best choose quickly. You don’t want me to make the decision for you.” 

* * *

**To Be Continued**

**Notes:** Oh, I have so many fun things planned. Which never bodes well for the characters, does it?


	2. Chapter 2

**Title:** One of Those Days  
 **Characters:** Hiroaki, Piemon, Yamato|| **Family:** Yamato & Hiroaki, Yamato & Piemon  
 **Chapters:** 2-12| **Chapter Words:** 1,613| **Total Words:** 3,241  
 **Genre:** Family|| **Rated:** G  
 **Challenges:** Diversity Writing, Digimon Adventure 02, breeds, I11, 9-14 chapters; Easter Advent 2017, #29, changing faces; Novella Masterclass, #4, AU Space; Christmas Advent 2017, day #22, take 2 characters who didn’t interact & write a scenario where they do (Piemon & Ishida Hiroaki); Call It Heads or Tails, level 3, conflict  
 **Notes:** This is a massive rewrite of an old story o mine.  
 **Summary:** Piemon has plans that involve his son. Ishida Hiroaki insists there’s more to a father than siring a child. One person holds the answer – Ishida Yamato.  


* * *

Piemon wasn’t the most patient of Digimon. He could hold himself back when there were no other options, but he didn’t _like_ it, and whatever restrained him had best not be there when he could once more unleash himself. 

Now he stared at the human, waiting for a decision that he doubted would be made. The human looked too terrified to think. Which in fairness – not that Piemon enjoyed being fair – was the proper emotion to feel when knowing that Piemon thirsted for one’s blood. 

He moved forward. “Don’t waste my time, human. Choose.” 

The human stepped back, lips pressed together. “I’m not going to surrender to you.” 

“Perhaps my son did gain a small bit of stubbornness from you,” Piemon mused. Flickers of scarlet energy raced up and down the sword-blade. He really only needed one for this. “But that won’t save you.” 

The human scrambled backwards. It wouldn’t do any good. Piemon had brought a great many of his allies here. Those that weren’t keeping the Chosen occupied while he dealt with this particular annoyance were here keeping said annoyance from getting away. 

Piemon tossed one hand forward. From the concealed space in his sleeve there shot a small blade, one of his swords in miniature, that caught the human across the face. Blood trickled down. The human raised one hand to the wound, saying something that Piemon presumed would be human profanity. 

The tiny dagger flew back to his hand and Piemon examined it carefully. “You should know this. Even if you escape me now, I have your scent on this. I can track you anywhere. There’s nowhere that you could hide.” He smiled a long, slow smile. “Would you care to test me? I’m sure it would be _fascinating_ to see you flee in terror.” 

But the human now stayed where he was. “What is it that you want?” 

“I told you already. Disposing of you will ensure that my son becomes _my_ son yet again, permanently this time.” Piemon flicked away the little dagger. “If you refuse to surrender properly and make this quick, then I’ll make it slow.” Oh, how wonderful that did sound. He’d put in a lot of effort working to train Anbumon when his offspring had been young. It had been too long since he’d hurt someone to the point of death. 

Ishida Hiroaki shook his head. “Not going to let you kill me, either.” 

“Oh, I wasn’t asking you to _let_ me!” Piemon laughed at the very thought. “I’d really rather you didn’t.” 

He took his time. The more he did so, the more fear and rage he could feel rising from the human. Just a slight move forward, and Ishida darted farther back, eyes shifting rapidly, searching for help that would not be coming. 

“Yamato and his friends are going to stop you,” Ishida said at last as he backed up against a broken vehicle. “So even if you kill me, you're not going to get away with it.” 

“I really wouldn’t put such faith in that.” Piemon did not even attempt to keep the satisfaction out of his voice. “I brought several of my servants here to deal with them. By the time they learn what’s happened to you, it will be far too late for them – or for you.” He moved forward again. There wasn’t anywhere the human could go that would give him safety, even for a few moments. 

Again the human shook his head. “I wouldn’t believe that.” 

Piemon tilted his own head to the side. “And why is that?” 

“They're the Chosen. They always stop you and your kind.” Ishida grinned a stern grin. “You can trust me on that. I’m a reporter. I’ve written a lot of stories about what they do. All the way from the beginning when that guy – the vampire – turned up here. He did a lot more damage than you did.” 

For a moment, Piemon wasn’t entirely sure if he should believe his ears. Then he laughed softly. 

“You mean Vamdemon.” How amusing. “He was my student, did you know? Of course you didn’t.” Again he moved forward. He was a trifle surprised when the human scrambled over the broken vehicle, finding a way out of the circle of Evilmon. Not that he could _escape_ , of course. But Piemon still hadn’t quite expected that. “He was my student in so many different subjects.” 

“I did _not_ need to know that,” Ishida snapped as he reached the other side of the vehicle and started to run. Piemon decided that was the choice that his prey had made - to draw this out and make it far more entertaining. 

Well, maybe he didn’t know that he’d made that choice. But he’d made it regardless. 

“Perhaps not. I doubt that someone like you could begin to comprehend the centuries of our _relationship_.” 

In some ways, he rather missed Vamdemon. The vampire had come close to rivaling him for power – not all the way, of course, and he’d ended up being one of those who lost his mind when he evolved higher than he should have. But when he’d known his place, he’d been very suitable as a partner. A good student as well; at some points it had even taken effort for Piemon to overpower him. 

“Not listening,” Ishida grumbled, hitting the ground running. Piemon lazily floated along, gesturing to his Evilmon and the others he’d brought along to keep in a loose circle around the human. Not enough to hem him in, but not so far away that he could escape either. The chase was on. 

Piemon made a small disapproving noise deep in his throat. “You should be. Paying attention is the only thing that might help you live longer. Not live at all, of course. I’ve already decided that you’re going to die.” 

He wasn’t sure if the human responded. It didn’t matter if he did. Truth was truth. 

Keeping track of his prey wasn't difficult at all. His soldiers had torn up enough of the city so that there really wasn’t anywhere else to hide. He could see a few signs of combat not that far away but he ignored that for the most part, save for indicating for his minions to keep his prey away from that area. 

It certainly wasn’t the first time in his long, long life that he’d hunted down prey. He and Vamdemon had done it together before, and he treasured many moments of seeing his vampire companion fasten his fangs onto some unwary soul and drain them until they were a lifeless husk. 

How had he enjoyed the lifeblood of humans, as opposed to Digimon data? Piemon had never tasted either but he could fairly say that humans were interesting prey. This one, at least, seemed quite intent on giving him a glorious hunt. 

Time to put a little spice into the situation, he decided, and darted forward too swiftly for poor dull human eyes to see. Again he struck at the human with his small knife, and again he drew blood, this time from the human’s back. He made sure not to make it a fatal blow. Just enough so that Ishida knew that he lived only because Piemon allowed it and no more. 

There was a scream. Such a sweet, lovely sound, and then Ishida flailed back with one hand, trying in his own ridiculous way to strike back. Piemon seized his wrist and bent it until the man screamed in agony, jutting it up at an angle calculated only for pain, not breaking. 

Though with a fraction more pressure, he could have easily broken it. 

“That’s not how the game is played,” he corrected. “You don’t try to attack me. I’m the one hunting you.” 

“I’m not an animal!” Ishida growled through white lips, every word straining to come out of him. “You can’t-” 

Whatever else he could or couldn’t do, Piemon cared little for. He jerked the man’s arm up higher and the words spiraled off into a cry of pain that redoubled with two extremely satisfying cracks. 

“There. You made me hurt you when I didn’t want to,” Piemon reprimanded, dropping the human and kicking him, displeased he’d been annoyed so much. This was business, but it was meant to be _fun_ and he wasn’t having nearly as much fun as he wanted to. “This is all your fault.” 

If Ishida wanted to argue the point, he certainly didn’t _try_ to. Instead he squirmed in pain and tried to shuffle himself away. Piemon gestured to a couple of his Evilmon. He’d really had enough of fooling around here and it was time to return home and get on with his actual business of killing this human in screaming agony. 

Well, first he would have to actually captured Anbumon and take him home as well. Anbumon needed to witness his human parent perishing by his true father’s hand in order to properly become his genuine self. He might even want to kill Piemon for it, but that would merely add to the pleasure of training him otherwise. 

Once he had Anbumon firmly under his thumb, it would be time to turn to Akogimon – and then the others who carried Digimon blood in their veins. How _sweet_ it would be to have them all serving him. 

“Get away from my dad.” 

Piemon looked up in time to see a blond, blue-eyed, golden-armored warrior descending on him, blades outward, and rage burning in his eyes. He blocked the attack with a quick shield and smiled a greeting, opening his arms in the same breath. 

“Anbumon! I was just going to look for you!” 

* * *

**To Be Continued**

**Notes:** Piemon is an ass. That is all.


	3. Chapter 3

**Title:** One of Those Days  
**Characters:** Hiroaki, Piemon, Yamato|| **Family:** Yamato & Hiroaki, Yamato & Piemon  
**Chapters:** 3-12| **Chapter Words:** 1,604| **Total Words:** 4,845  
**Genre:** Family|| **Rated:** G  
**Challenges:** Diversity Writing, Digimon Adventure 02, breeds, I11, 9-14 chapters; Easter Advent 2017, #29, changing faces; Novella Masterclass, #4, AU Space; Christmas Advent 2017, day #22, take 2 characters who didn’t interact & write a scenario where they do (Piemon & Ishida Hiroaki); Call It Heads or Tails, level 3, conflict  
**Notes:** This is a massive rewrite of an old story o mine.  
**Summary:** Piemon has plans that involve his son. Ishida Hiroaki insists there’s more to a father than siring a child. One person holds the answer – Ishida Yamato.  


* * *

Yamato held himself back from just beheading Piemon then and there. It was _tempting_ , but there were so many drawbacks that he knew it wouldn’t be worth it. Not to mention he couldn’t even be sure Piemon would stay still long enough for him to do the deed. Piemon could be very fast, and while he was no slouch at all, he might not be fast enough. 

And what he needed to do first was get his dad out of there. Once he was safe, _then_ he could go back and deal with Piemon. 

**You could just do it now. He needs to know what we can do.**

That dark whisper, a near perfect mirror image of his own voice, slipped and slid around the corners of his mind. Yamato ignored it, staring down at Piemon as he came in for a landing. 

“That’s not my name,” he spat the words out. “My name is _Ishida Yamato_." Or Chiguumon. Either one worked. Those were the names that he chose to go by. He would _never_ go by Anbumon. 

Again that murmur, nothing but a voice and a laugh, sliding along under his skin. His dark side liked to play. His dark side would happily shred Piemon – but wouldn’t care a bit about saving his dad. So he had to remain in control. 

Piemon sniffed. “Do you think I wouldn’t know my own son’s true name? Whatever you choose to call yourself is irrelevant. You _are_ Anbumon.” His scarlet eyes met Yamato’s own, and seemed to dig deeper into him, to where that dark side lurked. “And you know it.” 

Yamato shook his head, pushing that part of him that wanted to respond out of the way. “We’ve had this argument before. It always ends the same way. So why don’t you just stop it and get back to the Digital World? If I finish you there you can at least be reformatted. Here, not so much.” 

Piemon chuckled, two of his Trump Swords appearing in his hands. “You would like to believe that, wouldn’t you? I can be reformatted from anywhere.” 

That wasn’t something Yamato wanted to believe. But he also wasn’t going to let Piemon distract him. He kept himself in between the two of them, speaking to his dad. 

“Get ready. I’m going to clear you a path.” 

“Yamato,” his dad murmured. Yamato shook his head. 

“I’ll be fine. He can’t take me.” 

Piemon laughed at that. “And you think you’re not my son. You and I have so much in common.” He raised one sword and energy glowed along the tip of it in a silver sphere. Yamato didn’t wait for the attack to reach full strength. He leaped forward, slicing the edge of one blade along Piemon’s stomach, and bringing the other up to push Piemon’s out of the way. 

He knew that he wasn’t going to be able to do much more than keep Piemon at bay for now. But he hadn’t come on his own. 

“Garurumon!” He called, and he could hear his partner’s great paws racing along the broken roads. “Get my dad out of here! Keep him safe!” 

He didn’t pay any more attention. He trusted Garurumon to do what he’d been asked to do. What _he_ needed to do now was keep Piemon and any other Digimon away from there. 

He pressed harder against Piemon’s swords, before all the air blew out of his lungs – Piemon rammed his knee into Yamato’s stomach. Thanks to his armor, it wouldn’t do much damage, but it didn’t need to. His swords clattered downward and he gasped, dragging in air when he could, and couldn’t stop Piemon from knocking him over onto his stomach. 

**He’s going to kill you, idiot,** Anbumon whispered, his ghostly fingers caressing against Yamato’s own. **Let me out. Let me do this. He wants me. He’ll spare you if I’m there.**

Yamato mentally snorted. _You think you taking over spares me? That’s what he **wants**! So that’s not what I’m giving him._

Piemon’s sword edge now rested against the back of his neck. “I want Anbumon. I intended to kill the human to get him out but this might be easier. Or possibly more fun.” He laughed. “Not that I’m going to rule out killing him at all. He thinks he can claim you as his son when it’s _my_ blood and _my_ data that formed you? I don’t think so.” 

Yamato closed his eyes and concentrated. He had to do this just right or he would lose his head – or even worse, his entire body. “No. I’m never giving in to you. I told you that once already.” 

The thin line of sharp metal pressed harder against his neck and he could feel a trail of blood run down. 

“I wouldn’t be so insistent if I were you. Because you don’t exactly have a choice.” 

Yamato could feel Piemon doing _something_ up there, but he wasn’t certain of what. Then he felt a cold sphere being rolled against the back of his neck. 

“Finding this took me a lot of effort. But I did manage to locate it. It’s not exactly like that thing that was in Akogimon but it would have a similar effect on you. The point being, you either release Anbumon and become my true son, or I will do it for you.” 

The sphere rested at the very base of his neck. “I think this would hurt,” Piemon murmured, his voice far too close to Yamato’s ear now. “But I don’t know. I really would like to find out. Are you going to deny me the chance to find out?” 

Yamato jerked up his right hand, seized Piemon’s hand where it hovered far too close to his neck, and channeled the fire that dwelled within him through his hands. 

“ _Shining Wildfire_!” 

Fire exploded from the palm of his hand, circling around Piemon. Yamato rolled to his feet and called his swords back to him, getting ready for battle once again. He’d seldom used his flame attack that close to someone else before, but when he fought Piemon, he would happily break all of the rules. 

Piemon patted the flames out quickly. Their attacks were of equal strength so it would take more than that to properly dispose of him. The clown smiled approvingly. 

“You’re getting much better,” Piemon praised him. Yamato’s stomach churned at the words, while his inner Anbumon chuckled. “But still not good enough.” 

Before Yamato could even ask what that meant, a cry came from behind him. He had just enough time to process it as a Digimon’s attack call, before he realized what he was hearing. 

“Electric Thread!” 

From slightly above him there fell electric charged wires that bound his arms tight to his side. A second dose enveloped his legs, sending him tumbling downward. Without his arms and legs free, getting his flame attack off was the next thing to impossible, let alone being able to wield his swords. 

Once again Piemon strolled nearer to him. “You really should have just surrendered the first time,” Piemon reprimanded him. “That would have made this utterly unnecessary.” 

Yamato struggled, straining to get himself free. But his efforts came to nothing, especially as Piemon pressed down on his neck with one hand. 

“How lucky you are that my little toy here is quite, quite fireproof. You did forget that I know about all your tricks, didn’t you?” 

Harder and harder he strained against the bonds. Piemon rested the sphere against him. 

“There’s no need for that. Kunemon’s threads can’t be broken easily, even by you. Or rather, I’m sure you could, given enough time. Or if you can’t, then that annoying _partner_ of yours could do it. But that’s not going to happen. Good-bye, Ishida Yamato.” 

Piemon shoved the sphere into him, and Yamato screamed as pain spiraled outward from the point of contact. He bucked upward and squirmed, trying to drag in breaths and not having a great deal of luck. Fire bloomed along every part of him; not the flames that formed his attack but a cruel, cold blaze that raced along his veins and muscles, and left shadows in their wake. 

**At last! At last!** Anbumon shrieked in pure pleasure, basking in every ounce of pain that Yamato suffered. **I knew my time would come!**

Yamato wanted to stop him, to hold him back and push him down like he had every other time. But in the wake of those ravaging flames, he didn’t have the strength. Instead he felt somewhat disconnected from his entire body. 

Which made feeling that body move in a way that he hadn’t wanted it to very strange indeed. 

“Set me free, Father,” he heard himself say, and knew that he hadn’t wanted to speak the words. But Anbumon had – and now Anbumon had control of the body. 

Piemon’s cold hand rested against the side of his face. “It has been far too long, my dear son. I’ve been waiting to see you again.” 

“I’m sure you have. Now are you going to let me go or do I have to do this myself?” 

Yamato sank deeper into the darkness that filled him. He couldn’t think clearly enough to do anything else. All he could do was hope that Garurumon managed to get his dad to safety, and that the other Chosen would be able to defeat Piemon. Right now, all he wanted to do was sleep, so he closed his eyes, and let himself drift away. 

The last thing he heard was Piemon laughing and Anbumon’s smug successful snort. 

* * *

**To Be Continued**

**Notes:** In fair truth I don’t know when I’ll update this again. This is the last chapter I had pre-written. I have 21 fics I’m working on and I’m using a random selection method to determine what I work on. But, when I do start updating this again, it will be finished. So bear with me?


End file.
